


Dancing with the Hart

by kixxy23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Snow White and the Huntsman Fusion, Animagus, Animagus Harry Potter, Arthurian legend - Freeform, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Child Harry Potter, Child Tom Riddle, Deer Harry Potter, Deer Ride, Harry Potter is Pretty, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, He's so happy, M/M, Parseltongue, Partly Inspired by Snow White and the Huntsman, Precious Harry Potter, Puberty, Time Travel, Tom becomes a Disney Princess, Tom talking to snakes and deer, Vegan? Harry Potter, White Hart, White Stag, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), You know that feeling you get when you have animals listen to you?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kixxy23/pseuds/kixxy23
Summary: "In Celtic mythology, the white stag was a messenger of the 'Otherworld' (spirit realm or afterlife) with the color white often being associated with the Otherworld by the Celts. In Arthurian legend, the appearance of a white stag could herald the beginning of a quest; it was also believed to near impossible to successfully capture such a creature." -Tom couldn't understand why the creature picked him.If the creature before him truly was the mythical 'White Hart' why was it letting him near? Only the 'pure of heart' got near this beast. Tom does not fit that bill! Wasn't there also something about a quest? Was it trying to send him on a quest? Hell if he knew!Oh God, when did the beast get so close?!?....First finding out you're a wizard, then finding a magical deer, and then finding out that said deer was a shape-shifting boy who might also be a wizard? Well, at least Tom wasn't alone anymore. Now, if only his voice would drop.





	1. To leave the home that's not your own

Running. Running, running, _running, running._

 

His legs were _burning_ , just like his lungs. But he couldn't stop. Not if Harry didn't want to be caught by his cousin's gang.

 

Tangled, dark riglets threated to obscure his vision and a pair of glasses with broken frames clings to the bridge of his nose by beads of sweat that drip from his nearing-greasy hairline. Too big shoes are almost launched with every desperate fling of his legs. His shirt was drenched with his exhaustion, though it was hidden by the dress-like sweater and sagging jeans.

 

But Harry didn't have the time to worry about the state of his attire. Not when his lungs were furiously pumping in time to his legs trying to flee, and his heart trying to escape the cage of his ribs.

 

 Boys, much larger than he, were after Harry. His cousin headed the charge; wanting to spread the nasty yellow that already on Harry's skin, and bloom violent purple across the skinny child.

 

All Harry wanted was to run away.

 

He started to feel the crackle in his blood. The world around him churned. As he turned to try to see what was happening, his stomach dropped and his ears popped. Light was consuming his vision, till suddenly, there was nothing.


	2. One late winter

All Tom had wanted was to get away from Wool's orphanage for a few moments. To go to the creek, and maybe save his last brain cells from melting in his skull and seeping out his nose from the utter stupidity that wafted in the air, being secreted from the very _pores_  of the other children that infested the hell-scape they had to call home. Call Tom dramatic, but he didn't favor having to share living quarters with those that not only _despised_ him, but wanted him _eviscerated_ on all levels humanly (and inhumanly )possible.

 

He'd already done his chores for the day. Ate the pitiful excuse of porridge for breakfast, and the oily water, the matron decided to call soup, for lunch. So he had nothing to do till dinner, less he wanted to risk the chance another child decided he 'fell' down the stairs, and potentially break his neck again.

 

He expected the barren rocks and dark water. Welcomed them even, like the friends he could never really have. What he didn't expect was a giant deer.

 

No, not _just_ a giant deer. A nearly 8 ft stag, with a pure silvery-white coat and giant, multi-spiked antlers.

 

The only thing his mind brought up was the tale of King Arthur allegedly chasing after this great beast. And some bits and pieces about _'purity'_ and being a cheap rip-off of a unicorn.

 

In his minds fumbling, Tom didn't realize the stag had gotten up and walk closer. At least, till the large creature sniffed his brown locks, gently butted its nose against his shoulder, then bore his eyes to the startled young boy.

 

Does this mean he was chosen?

 

No. Nope. Tom stop your bullshit. Being able to do weird things, like setting wardrobes on fire when angry, levitating objects, even hurting other people with his mind, and talking to snakes does not constitute to being in front of a (maybe) magical creature.

 

Tom reached a hand out to stroke the soft looking pelt of the stags chest. He felt something strange well up in him, almost like something was calling. Wait... No, it couldn't be the being in front of him.

 

Oh, but it was, wasn't it?

 

Almost as if the stag heard his question, it chuffed in his ear and tried to cover the little distance there.

 

"N-no! Stay back!" Tom replied in a tone of command, slightly off-put by how startled he was in the deer's the advancement towards him.

 

Once he was a bit back, he tried to understand what was going on.

 

Tom couldn't understand why the creature picked him.

 

If the creature before him truly was the mythical 'White Hart' why was it letting him near? Only the 'pure of heart' got near this beast. Tom does not fit that bill! Wasn't there also something about a quest? Was it trying to send him on a quest? Hell if he knew!

 

Oh God, when did the beast get so _close?!?_

 

His mind just blanked for moment. How was he to deal with this? This was bullshit. Tom had to have hit his head on one of the creek's rocks. That had to be it.

 

Then it started to _shift_.

 

What _more_ is there!?! This was beginning to be utterly ridiculous!

 

Oh...

 

A little boy?

 

".... No." Tom was not getting wrapped up in some fantasy from a fairy tale. The main character tends to _fucking die_ , and _oh, **would you look at that!**_   ** _Tom doesn't want to die due to some ethereal bullshit._**


	3. The boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has difficulty talking, but Tom is calm and caring. On the outside. On the inside? He wants to destroy everyone who hurt his ball of sunshine.  
> Tom never had anyone to care about. Now that he does, he's a 'little' possessive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been kinda sick and looking for job offers, so sorry I haven't updated this story. I actually had half this chapter written and forgot.

It was the summer of 1938 when Tom Marvolo Riddle, 11 years of age, met a legendary stag that turned into an underweight 7-year-old boy. The boy was named Harry. The young Harry followed Tom closely until he left the beaches hidden area, to which he resided. He would wait for Tom again, and again, and again. Never to go to Wool's. Which Tom was thankful for, as he could not bear the thought of his same torment being pushed on Harry's thin shoulders. Though it still left him to wonder how Harry got by, day by day.

 

At least, until a suspicious man decided to come knocking and tell him that he's a bloody wizard.

 

Well, at least he could go to Harry and complain about this nonsense. Like, "What is a magical child doing in a normal orphanage?" "Why was I left there?" "Was one of my parents magical?" and perhaps the most important question, "Harry, are you a wizard?"

 

Harry could only look at him with his big, sad, doe-like eyes. "I don't know. But my Aunt and Uncle hate magic."

 

Tom could only feel himself grow cold at the words. "Your aunt and uncle? If you have a family, why are you here? Where are your parents?" Why did it only just occur to Tom to ask such an important question? What if Harry could have been in an actual house, a loving home, if Tom had just asked? What if Harry is a lost child? No one cares about lost children in a war, but Tom could have still helped!

 

"My parents? They're gone. Aunt said in a car accident. I was left with Aunt and Uncle. They are mean, and so is my cousin. I don't like them." Harry then suddenly lit up, "An' I'm not in the cupboard all the time anymore! I get so much space here! An' I can get outta 'Arry 'Untin'!" Harry turned to smile brightly at Tom.

 

"Airy Un-tin?"  Tom parroted teasingly. He made sure to keep his gentile facade in front of Harry. He didn't want to scare the boy and make him shut down. Tom adored having the other children look at him in fear, it was the only way they stayed in line and obeyed what he said. But he didn't want Harry to fear him. He doesn't think he'd be able to stand it if Harry wouldn't stay by his side. The mere idea would make Tom's chest ache in a way that was really painful.

He'd rather have his neck snapped again than even contemplate Harry leaving him. (Wow, he kinda sounded stuck on that point. Like it could have _killed him_. Yes, he was still bitter.)

 

"Harry. Hunting." The boy pulled a face of concentration as he exaggerated the 'H', sounding like it was being punched twice out of his feeble lungs. To which he proceeded it by over-enunciating the 'ing'. The young boy then gazed up at Tom, eyes wide and searching.

 

Tom grinned and delicately petted the thick raven mess, mentally noting needing to figure out who dared to hurt his Harry. But Harry was very open and will let things slip eventually. He'll find out what happened and help Harry through any trauma he might have. (And might acquire names to add to his list.)

 

"There. You're getting better." And Harry was getting better. At talking, reading, and writing. As well as magic. Tom may not have gone to school yet, but he could teach Harry some things without a wand. "How is your reading going?" It was a constant inquiry Tom asked now. Ever since he decided he would be Harry's teacher he wanted to make sure the younger boy would do his best. And Harry did. He tried and tried, wanting to be better at everything. So excited to learn and have someone's positive attention, he excelled quickly. He wasn't quite to the point most his age should be at, but Tom knew it was only a matter of time.

 

"Good! I didn' know all the words, so I wrote them on a piece of paper an' looked them up in the dic-shawn-ary." Eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the bigger word, slowing down as if to taste the vowels it produced. Lips twisted, causing the lightning scar's edges to pull down over his cheekbones. "Dictionary!"

 

 "Hey," Tom said quietly. "Where are you going to go? When I'm not here, I mean? When I go to Hogwarts?"

 

 "..." Harry seemed to contemplate the question. "I've been going back to Aunt and Uncle. So long as I make breakfast an' dinner, an' do the chores, I can leave now."

 

 "Why aren't you in school?" Tom felt sick, Harry kept going back to those people? To live with non-magicals who hated magic? And he was still starved after making them _food_? Tom has never felt so personally affronted by someone else getting hurt before Harry came into his life. Actually, he hasn't felt a lot at all before Harry. He's a completely different person in front of Harry. Not in the same way he does when he's in front of someone he's acting nice too, but to actually be different.

 

 "'M not allowed to go. I'm not smart. Aunt said so." Eyes of green flicked this way and that, but never left the ground. It was almost as if he was confused, skimming the pages of his mind, wondering what made him so different. Then, determination drew his eyes to narrow as he suddenly looked at Tom, the most important decision in the world weighed down his shoulders.

 

"Are you coming back?" Harry's intense gaze pierced through him. Tom couldn't help but feel like his very soul was being judged. But Tom couldn't help the affronted look that overcame his face.

 

 "Of course! I'll even come back during the Christmas break if you want." Tom then took a moment to compose himself and return the gaze looking into his being. "I will not be leaving forever, Harry. I'll only be going to school." His face proceeds to break into a smile. "And anyway, if you are a wizard too, then we'll go to Hogwarts together. You just have to wait a few more years."

 

  _(A few more years, then Tom can keep a better eye on the little boy. Who knew caring about other people would be this hard? Or stressful?_

 

_He sees Harry's relieved smile from knowing Tom won't ever abandon him._

 

_Tom finds he wouldn't trade it for the world.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is crack. Yes, it's being treated seriously.  
> I love any and all comments!  
> Share some ideas on where the story should go. I already have a plotline and how some things would work out. But I love other ideas too.


	4. Core of Phoenix, Eyes of Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom has less than a month left before Hogwarts starts, he goes into the magical world for the first time and gets his wand.  
> He also contemplates the exact color of Harry's eyes.

Tom was walking through a place his guide called 'Diagon Alley', and the more he looked at the storefronts, the people, and the absurdity around him, the more his contempt mixed with his wonder. How did this _exist_ and he was never told? How could this world have _magic_ , yet somehow look like it never came out of the medieval times? How was he, someone who _doesn't have money_ , afford to go to some _prestigious_ school by asking _Goblins_? His ingredients list for potions is _ridiculous_ , why can't the teachers provide those?! I mean Eye of Newt? They expect him to _carry **mustard seed **in his **backpack**_!?! And having moving pictures on your clothes _sounds_ cool until you see some 100 something man in _bright cobalt robes that have orange and **sick coloured** yellow as **glorified shifting shit stains!**_

 

No.

 

No, Tom.

 

Just calm down. Think of something else. Something that won't make you sick.

 

Like Harry.

 

He wondered if he could do some work and buy Harry a wizard robe. White would easily stain since Harry is still young. (Tom is 4 years older, he _will_ lord that over Harry in the future. In a teasing way, of course.) Black is always fetching, but why buy Harry a robe if it's going to be so standard? He might as well wait to go to Hogwarts, then! What if he found Harry a _green_ one? One to match his eyes? Does the magic world _even have_ that colour? Tom has looked _everywhere_ for it! He can never find the colour in the muggle world. It would give him at least one real reason to like the magic side of things, considering how piss-poor the presentation was.

 

See, Tom could never figure out what kind of green Harry's eyes were.

 

The orbs were hard to describe. Multiple fractures to create the illusion of a light glow. The shade made his blood freeze and his heart pump. He felt like he was staring down an unmovable force and trying to defy a state of existence itself.

 

He had started with plants. Ferns, Forest Moss, Jungle Canopy, Lime, Ivy, Mint, Myrtle, Pine, Shamrock.

 

Then he went on to gems. Emerald, Jade, Malachite, Dark Peridot, Tsavorite Garnet, Demantoid, Chrome Tourmaline, Chrome Diopside, and Green Sapphire. None of which matched. Though, that's not to say Tom would mind seeing Harry surrounded by such jewels. (He may have a problem with how he wants to collect shiny, precious objects of high value. He might need to see if he's somehow related to dragons. Do dragons actually make a hoard of valuable things? Oh God, he might _actually_ start a hoard.)

 

There was also poisons. Like Absinthe, Paris, Scheele's, or Aniline Green. But even the most vivid poison couldn't compare.

 

He kept thinking of it as he strolled into the wand shop and went through what felt like endless trial and error, wielding wand after wand, till Tom started to finally grow annoyed in such a way not even the thought of Harry's eyes can truly dissuade.

 

Then, the wandmaker shifted out of sight, snatching a box to then lay delicately in front of Tom, lifting the lid to reveal pale yew wood in offering to the young boy. The handle almost looked bird-like, Tom noted as he curled his fingers around and suddenly, he felt something. It was what Tom thought coming home would feel like. It was warm. It was soft, for wood. It felt like it was always meant to be in his hands.

 

He vaguely heard the wandmaker say something about phoenix feathers and a brother wand. He didn't even remember much of the rest of his time spent in the magical world that day.

 

 


	5. Secret Tongues Only We Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom goes to show Harry his wand. Harry just wants to be a deer. Tom rides a majestic deer. (Read: Tom getting a piggyback ride from a seven-year-old.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom becomes really attached to Harry because of the Horcrux in his scar, and also because he is the first magical being Tom met. Tom might act obsessive over Harry's well-being, but that's because he doesn't understand other people and has never actively tried keeping another person alive or happy. He is completely platonic, almost brotherly, to Harry right now. Though it might seem like a creeper when he talks about Harry, it isn't in his head a sexual thing. He wants the best of the best for Harry the same way he wants the best for himself. Tom is a narcissist, and in his soul (the part that recognizes that Harry is a shard of himself) this includes Harry. He loves Harry the same way he loves himself. Same way Voldemort would rain praises on his other Horcruxes, Tom does to Harry.  
> I'm sorry to anyone who wanted romance in a few chapters, but this is going to be kinda slow. And, because of time traveling bullshit, the age gap will not be this large when romance does happen. I don't know how long it will be until Tom and Harry react to each other in such ways. It may be after 40 so chapters. I was planning to draw it out quite a bit before such matter happened, but 100 or more chapters before real romance are my goal. There will be hints to it in any further chapters down the line, but right now it's a completely platonic obsession fueled by narcissism and friendship.

From Harry's perspective, he knows what's going on. Somewhat.

He can see how the world changes around him when he goes looking for Tom. The way he has to tug at something inside himself, feel the presence at the base of his skull, and pull the thing in his head to his chest to get to Tom. At least, that's how he would describe it. He remembered being so confused as to why there was such a drastic change around him every time he went and met up with Tom. At least, until he looked at two newspapers from the 'same' day.

Before he left the house he saw Uncle's say "1987". But when he 'tugged' he saw a street vendor with a paper, "1938".

Was that all this was? The 'tugging', the need to be near Tom, were they somehow connected? How did Harry keep jumping back and forth through time? Would this not cause a tear in reality? Harry had only one logical answer: He was not destroying the very fabric of the universe because the universe _wanted_ him to do this. It was meant to happen. He was fated to go back in time and meet Tom.

Harry and Tom had such a connection, not even Time nor Fate wished to separate the two friends.

Harry was grateful.

~

"Come on Tom, I want to give you a piggyback ride! It's really easy when I'm a deer, and I really want to run!"

"No Harry, it's alright to have fun but don't drag me into this- and you're already a deer." Tom deadpans at the 8 foot stag giving him doe eyes from its massive skull.

Harry lowers his neck and bleats like a sad new-born fawn.

And that's how Tom finds himself on his friends back, going faster than any moving vehicle (or broom) he's ever seen, trying to hold his lunch of oily water, as he essentially gets a piggy-back ride on an under-fed seven-year-old.

When did this become his life?

He's digging his fingers into long, coarse fur. The white strands seemed to wrap around his fingers in kind, the thick hair curling like the younger boy's human equivalent. It was freeing, terror-inducing, too much, not enough, _oh God he's going to vomit! Get him off this Hell-beast!!!!!!!_

~

Harry was dunking his head in the water, trying vehemently to rid it of bile (and oil?) that was so _generously_ hurled onto his head, while Tom sat against the trunk of a tree trying to gain his bearings once again.

Then he heard a hissing. Looking down he saw it was a common grass snake that just wanted to come by and say hello to the young speaker. He thought nothing of hissing back. Not like he had to keep it a secret for Harry, right? But he didn't expect for the way the young boy's shoulders drew stiff. _Most likely a fear of snake's_ , Tom mused.

Harry slowly turned around, facing Tom and the snake, only to do the unexpected.

_~~"Hello?"~~ _

Well, Tom was never going to be the only one ever again. Somehow, it didn't make Tom feel less special. It only made Harry more precious to him.


End file.
